Shock and Celebration
by adirondack
Summary: Charla and the other castaways, still reeling from operating on their friend Will, discover they may have another serious problem on their hands...


Like the others, Charla sprinted into action when Luke passed out face first in the sand.

"Luke!"

" _Luke_!"

Ian helped Charla turn him over. They brushed the sand off of his face, and Ian put his ear on Luke's chest.

"He'll be fine." Ian said with a doctor's certainty.

But he wouldn't be fine. Every time Charla turned around, another one of her friends was one step closer to death.

How strange it was, to think that! Every one of them had survived so much, and now everything was falling apart.

She turned back to see Lyssa kneeling beside her brother, cradling his hand in hers. Feeling Charla's eyes on her, she raised her tear-streaked face.

"Is he okay?" she asked.

It didn't matter whether Lyssa meant Will or Luke. Her answer would still be the same.

"I hope so."

* * *

The next day, the castaways sat around and waited for some indication of life from their friend.

Charla noted that Luke mostly stayed away from the charred galley roof on which Will slept, mostly stealing brief, furtive glances from a distance. Ian stayed by Will's bedside only when one of the girls asked him to do a "checkup".

"I've got to collect more firewood," he said on occasion. "You never know—these constant rains. They sometimes put out the fire and we've got to have wood on hand."

Charla looked over at the already enormous pile of firewood and back to Ian, who pulled his hand away from his eyes. It was wet. He gave her a smile and vanished into the jungle. Starting to help him, Charla turned. Before she made it all the way around however, she caught sight of Luke sitting on the beach, staring out at the vast ocean.

"It always amazes me," she said softly, "How big it is." When he didn't respond, she sat down next to him.

Luke didn't say anything for a minute. Without moving his head or glance, he said, "Will's going to be all right."

He wasn't saying it to her, and Charla knew it.

"Yeah."

They were both thinking of J.J. Would Will's fate turn out like the poor rich kid's?

Charla patted Luke on the shoulder and started to stand up, but he grabbed her hand and squeezed it. She squeezed back and dropped his hand, walking back to the stills.

Luke was so grown up, she reflected. But nothing could stop him from being horrified at what he'd just done to not one but, _two_ human beings. Neither of which was really his fault—after all, they'd all agreed to send J.J. to what would be his death, and Luke had actually wanted to be the one to go. Ian had originally been the one to perform Will's surgery, but Luke in his unceasing _goodness_ had taken the surgical instruments from the boy's trembling fingers.

And now he had to live with the guilt. Luke was, after all, the prime decision-maker on the island. Of course he would feel that it was all his responsibility.

Seeing his misery and fear made the rest of it that much more real to Charla. Her parents were thousands of miles away and thought she was dead. Smugglers used their island as a base for crime, and had finally killed one of them. How long would it be before the rest of them were discovered?

Wait.

If they _killed_ J.J., would they really believe he was alone on the island? Could one person survive for two months by himself? Could he convince them of that?

What if he couldn't? What if they thought there were more kids on the island? It wouldn't take long for a few grown men with guns to take out four healthy kids and a wounded one.

She shared her concerns with Ian a few minutes later.

"It's probably nothing." she said. She felt like crying. "I don't know why I even thought it. It's just so awful—what happened to J.J. I can't help feeling paranoid."

Ian shook his head. "You're not paranoid." His brow furrowed, he continued, "They probably asked him if there was anyone else when—when they found him. They might have even…you know…interrogated him."

Charla gasped. "You mean like, _really_ interrogate him? Like the movies?"

Matter-of-factly, Ian nodded. "Except more effective, I'm sure. If nobody's watching, they don't have to censor anything."  
Why wasn't he more upset? Although, the more Charla thought about it, the more she realized how much the Phoenix's sinking had hardened them all. She no longer had any qualms about being in close proximity to killers, and even J.J.'s murder hadn't affected her on as deep an emotional level as it might have otherwise. It was just so sad. Ian was only eleven. Eleven-year-olds shouldn't be talking about a friend's torture in a tone that reflected nonchalance.

It was a sobering thought. Charla doubted even Luke could have withstood torture to protect them all. It was a terrible fate for J.J.

Charla finally voiced her worst fear. "So, if J.J. broke, what's going to happen to us?"

Ian clenched his jaw.

"I don't know."

* * *

"We have to do something."

Luke looked wearier than Charla had ever seen him.

"I know," he said grimly. "If they interrogated J.J, they're going to be coming after us. They can't risk us getting rescued."

"Well, what can we do?" Lyssa asked tightly. "We can't go anywhere without Will, and he doesn't look like…like he's going to wake up anytime soon!"

She was right. Will's face was still extremely pale and his forehead still drenched in sweat. While they hadn't killed him-a fact for which Charla was extremely grateful—he still hadn't shown any signs of improvement. Rather, he resembled a living corpse. While Charla certainly wouldn't mention it in front of Lyssa, she knew they couldn't be banking on Will's recovery to begin their escape.

Ever sensible, Ian said matter-of-factly, "Why don't we lay out our options?

"Right." Luke cleared his throat. "As I see it, there are a few things we can do. We can build a huge signal fire in the hopes of a plane at night-"

"But we can't let the smugglers see us!" Charla interjected worriedly.

"Yes," said Luke patiently, "But if they're coming for us, they're coming for us. They already know where we are. A signal fire could only help us."

"Got it."

Luke took a deep breath. "Another option: we leave."

There was a collective intake of breath.

"Leave?" Lyssa repeated dubiously.

Charla coughed once. "How?"

"It wouldn't be safe," Ian remarked, "but we could stock up on mangosteens and taro and bananas and stick them on the cabin top. Then we could hitch it to the inflatable raft and bring supplies along with us. We could last a few weeks that way."

"A few _weeks_?" Lyssa said. " _Weeks_? That's not long enough to get rescued!"

"But can we stand around waiting for our own murders?" Luke countered.

Lyssa fell silent, and Charla found the silence louder than the loudest soccer-game-crowd. It was as though everyone were protesting—but no one could say a word, for they all knew Luke was right. J.J. may have grown up over the last few days, but he couldn't withstand tortured administered by trained killers. And trained killers surely wouldn't believe one kid could have survived nearly a year on a tiny cay by himself. Or at least they'd be skeptical. They'd want to check things out. And if J.J. knew they were smugglers, of course his companions would know. And then they'd have to be eliminated.

They had to leave. Two more weeks would be better than no more weeks. A slim chance was better than no chance at all. Charla glanced at Luke. His eyebrows were set, determined. He'd thought it all through. She looked at Lyssa, whose eyes were surprisingly dry, and watched realization dawn on her face. Next to her, Ian already drew tally marks in the sand, presumably preparing a mental inventory for their possibly suicidal trip. The poor, brave kid.

She finally raised her eyes to make out Will's limp form on the cabin top a few paces away. They had all survived so much. Of course they had to try to hold on a little longer. Just like her dad had always said, "Try your hardest. The race ain't over 'till it's over."

Charla cleared her throat.

"I'll work the stills."

* * *

Charla had nearly filled her umpteenth coconut with purified water when she heard Luke shout. Thinking something had to be wrong, she quickly dropped the coconut and followed the noise.

Luke and Ian jumped up and down on the beach next to the cabin top, yelling at the top of their lungs. Luke cupped his hands around his mouth and bellowed, "Lyssa! LYSSA!"

"Charla!" Ian called her over, but he needn't have bothered. She had already closed the gap between them as fast as she could. Only when they stood right next to her could she see that they were _laughing_.

Actually, Luke was practically crying. "Will made it!" he yelled. "He made it!" Tears streaming down his face, he gathered Charla into arms and gave her a joyous hug.

Without a second thought, Charla jumped up and down and screamed at the top of her lungs too. When Luke released her, she beamed at their patient, whose black-and-blue leg couldn't have looked _less_ like the result of a successful surgery, but who looked up at all of them with such an energetic bewilderment that Charla knew Will _had_ indeed beaten the infection. Charla, Luke, and Ian leaped around Will's hospital bed like maniacs, screaming and waving their arms in celebration until Lyssa too came hurtling over to meet them. She immediately dropped beside her brother and embraced him.

"Ow, Lyss!" Will moaned. But he looked pleased.

Unable to remember the last time she'd felt so happy and unwilling to let the moment go a minute sooner than necessary, Charla gathered everyone to the ground for a group hug. The soaring of her heart broke through any worries Charla might have held about their escape plan. Luke had triumphed, thanks to Ian's skill. Will was finally back and reunited with Lyssa. J.J. might be hurting, but he would be all right soon. Because _they were going to get off this island._


End file.
